


insufficiently determined

by gazelonger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Apparating (Harry Potter), Canon Related, Canonical Character Death, During Canon, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Poor Susan Bones, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Splinching (Harry Potter), Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gazelonger/pseuds/gazelonger
Summary: Susan knew that taking a class provided by the Ministry was going to be a mistake.
Relationships: Amelia Bones & Susan Bones, Susan Bones & Justin Finch-Fletchley
Kudos: 5





	insufficiently determined

Susan knew that taking a class provided by the Ministry was going to be a mistake.

She hadn’t wanted to take the Apparition course being taught by Wilkie Twycross—a man her aunt had routinely called a living ghost—but nearly everyone else was taking it, and when Hannah Abbott had grabbed Susan’s arm and nearly begged her friend to go with her, well… Susan couldn’t possibly have said no if she tried.

It was a wet and dreary Saturday morning, so the sixth years, as well as the Heads of Houses (and the living ghost himself), were all inside the Great Hall for the first lesson. In the commotion to give everyone five feet of space, Professor Sprout had arranged the Hufflepuffs into a line, and somehow Susan was put at the very front. She stood tensely, and looked over her shoulder helplessly at Hannah.

Unfortunately for Susan, her friend was busy chatting away with Ernie Macmillan, both of them towards the back of the crowd and taking advantage of the free time to goof around before the lesson began. Susan smiled lightly, regretfully, and looked back towards Twycross just as the Heads of Houses demanded everyone’s silence.

It was when Twycross was explaining the three D’s of Apparition—Destination, Determination, and Deliberation—that Susan was struck with a memory.

—

Her aunt’s voice, hushed yet unwavering: “We don’t have much time.” Their house was cold, despite it being the middle of August and all the lights having been off. Susan’s entire body was shaking with nerves. She so badly wanted to reach out and take Amelia’s hand and hold it, as if she was still a little girl. She didn’t, though.

Susan was closely following Amelia—who was shoving various items into a single bag—through the halls. They didn’t need any lights to see where they were going.

“How do you know they’re coming?” Susan asked in a whisper. Her wand was clenched tightly in her right hand. She didn't know where Amelia’s was—her waistband, maybe. She was still in her work robes, so Susan couldn’t tell.

Amelia led Susan to her bedroom, and the girl found herself fleetingly feeling sheepish about the state of it. She had meant to clean it, but she’d spent the day in the garden, instead. The tomatoes she had picked to use in tonight’s supper were still sitting on the kitchen counter.

Amelia rifled through Susan’s drawers, stuffing clothes into the bag which, Susan only realized in that moment, was charmed to contain more than it should have physically been able to. It already would have been filled over thrice.

“At work,” Amelia answered hastily. “Someone gave me a message. A warning.”

“A threat?”

Amelia pauses to consider that. “I don’t know...With the way things have been since last summer, I can’t say for sure.” She moved to Susan’s closet, grabbing a couple of things from there, too.

“How do you know the message was meant for you?” Susan asked. Wishful thinking. 

Her aunt was moving about so surely—something Susan had always admired about Amelia. The woman always seemed to know what to do with herself, whereas Susan constantly found herself floundering, looking for anything to do. In that moment, for instance, she busied her anxious hands by plucking at her quilt.

Amelia didn’t pause to look up this time, now shoving Susan’s journals and bundles of letters into the bag. “You know as well as I do that it was meant for me, Susan. My presence in the Ministry is a threat to a lot of wizards’ agendas. Death Eaters and their sympathizers have wanted me out long before Harry Potter saw Voldemort rise again in that cemetery. It was only a matter of time befo—”

What sounded like wind snapped against their house and howled in the night. Susan was frozen to the spot. She saw the color drain from her aunt’s face as Amelia lifted her head to look at her niece. She looked frightened, her eyes wide; Susan had never seen Amelia look that way before.

But Amelia was quick to act. She pulled out her wand—from her waistband—and pointed it at Susan’s door. “ _ Colloportus _ ,” she gasped. The door swung shut, the bolt clicking into place. “Put your jacket on. Hurry.” Susan jerkily accepted the denim jacket Amelia passed to her, and put it on as hastily as she could. Amelia pulled the strings of the bag taut before handing that to Susan, as well. 

“What about you? Where’s your jacket?” Susan asked, looking expectantly at her aunt. As the words left her mouth, a realization crossed Susan’s mind. They hadn’t gathered any of Amelia’s clothes or belongings...and Amelia had given the bag to Susan.

Amelia smiled ruefully. Her eyes looked glassy. “What have we been working on all summer?” She asked in lieu of answering Susan’s questions.

“Apparition,” Susan answered automatically, albeit breathlessly, confusedly.

“And what are the three things to remember while doing it?”

“Destination, Determination, Deliberation.”

“Good girl,” Amelia said, cupping the side of Susan’s face. The wind stopped outside.

“What are you doing?” Susan asked, an awful sense of uneasiness rising like bile in the back of her throat.

Amelia put her hands on Susan’s shoulders. “ _ You _ are going to Apparate to your da.  _ I _ am going to stay here and make sure that no one follows you.” Her voice was steady, as was her grip. She no longer showed any signs of fear. But that didn’t stop Susan from feeling scared.

“No,” she said, stepping back from Amelia. She stepped closer almost immediately, however, when there was a wild, high-pitched laugh from outside the house. Amelia’s hands tightened on Susan’s shoulders. “No, I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving you.”  _ I can’t just leave you here by yourself _ , Susan wanted to scream. It felt like she was leaving a gazelle for a pack of wolves to devour.

Amelia’s gaze was light. “Always so stubborn. Let me look after you,” she said, shaking her head. Susan couldn’t look away from her eyes, her very blue eyes. “Please. I need you safe.”

Amelia wrapped Susan in her arms fiercely, and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Susan squeezed her eyes shut.  _ This is a very bad dream _ , she thought,  _ and I am going to wake up any second. _

“I love you. I love you, Susan. Tell your da I love him, too,” Amelia said in Susan’s hair.

“Come _with_ me. Tell him yourself,” Susan insisted weakly. Amelia huffed a breath from her nose; Susan knew that that meant Amelia had already made up her mind. 

Susan clung feebly to her aunt, not wanting to accept the daunting reality that this moment was.

There was a sharp, taunting knock at the front door. It echoed in the stillness of their house. Susan flinched sharply in her aunt’s arms, gasping. Amelia released Susan from her, and stood back. “Where’s your destination?” She asked in the quietest voice she could muster. The smile she wore was calm and reassuring now.

“Dad’s flat,” Susan whispered back wetly, a cold tear tracking down her left cheek. She tried to return the smile, but it was too difficult. 

The explosion as the front door was thrown from its hinges reverberated through the house. Susan gasped again, but so did Amelia. Her aunt composed herself quickly, and returned her intent gaze upon Susan.

“Alright, you need to focus, now. You’re going to see your da. Think of his face. Think of the flat—and that terrible couch of his, with the springs sticking out,” Amelia said. Susan breathed a laugh, nodding her head.

“I love you. You can do this,” Amelia encouraged. “Destination, Determination, Deliberation.” She bobbed her head as she said each word—she always used her body in some way when she spoke. Susan would never forget that.

Susan nodded again, preparing herself, albeit quickly.

She was going to see her dad. She was going to see him after so long. Susan closed her eyes and imagined her dad sitting on the floor as opposed to the couch, like he had done the last time they were all together at his flat. His flat, which was on the third floor of a building in Leeds. She knew her destination.

It had been so long since Susan had seen her dad. They hadn’t had a visit since Susan came back from school. She always wanted to see him, but she  _ needed _ more than anything to get to him now. Together they could get help. They could call the Order and come and save Amelia before it was too late. If she could get there quick enough—no, she  _ had _ to get there quick enough; she would get there quick enough. She was determined.

Opening her eyes, Susan finally managed a smile for her aunt. “I’m ready,” she said quietly.

“I know you are,” Amelia responded, beaming at Susan. “Now, go on, darling. Go.”

Susan closed her eyes, once more picturing her dad’s apartment. She was going to bring Amelia help. She would only be gone a short time; Amelia could hold the Death Eaters off until Susan returned with help. Amelia was the strongest witch Susan had ever known.

_ I’m going to help her _ , Susan thought resolutely, and she turned around deliberately, wand and bag in hand. The very last sound she heard, before a popping noise, was a voice as cold as ice, calling out her family name.

“ _ Bones… _ ”

—

“Bones!”

Susan jumped. She turned her head to face the person who’d been calling her name. Justin Finch-Fletchley was standing to her right. The boy wore an easygoing grin, but he looked Susan up and down, and his eyebrows were raised, betraying his concern. “Are you alright? You haven’t even tried yet!” He said with a half laugh.

Susan looked around herself. She was in the Great Hall with her fellow sixth years, most of whom were laughing and having a grand time. The Heads of Houses were walking around, checking on their students, and Wilkie Twycross looked unimpressed from where he stood at the front of the Hall. Susan remembered, now: she was meant to be trying her hand at Apparition.

How long had she been zoned out for? Susan’s heart was hammering inside of her chest, and she was breathing rather quickly. She turned back and nodded to Justin, not meeting his  _ definitely _ concerned gaze. Susan’s eyes flickered down at the ground in front of her. Her wooden hoop was lying still where it was, just a few feet away. When Susan blinked she saw her aunt’s calm face on the back of her eyelids.

Whenever Amelia and Susan would practice Apparition, Susan would go from one side of their garden to the other. It was a short enough distance, but enough to really tell that Susan had been successful at the skill. It had been fun trying her hand at advanced magic. She had wanted to try it for real, and travel further than the space of their yard; it really was rather exciting to imagine all the places she could go at the time.

She’d gotten her wish, she supposed. The inside of her mouth tasted bitter. Her aunt’s face turned sad and scared in her mind.

Shaking her head in a futile attempt to clear her thoughts, Susan tried to rein herself in. She needed to concentrate. Apparating into this hoop at least once was what she had to accomplish before she was allowed to leave this lesson, and surely she could manage to travel five feet. She traveled from London to Leeds, after all.  _ Like a coward _ , a cruel voice at the back of her head taunted. Susan’s eyes stung.

Her destination was the hoop, and her desire to get out of this lesson was all the determination she needed. As Twycross counted aloud to three, Susan really tried to focus. She was going to do this, she thought. And just as she turned around, she heard that awful voice—that high, chilling voice—whispering her name: “ _ Bones _ .”

There was the popping sound. And then a scream that Susan didn’t recognize as her own. It left her mouth before she even registered it, but it only took a moment to realize what had happened: she had successfully Apparated to the hoop, but she had splinched herself in the process. Her left leg was no longer attached to her body.

“Susan!” Someone shouted, and then Justin was at her side, catching the girl just before she toppled over. Susan choked out a sob—she found that she couldn’t properly breathe—and her eyes squeezed shut so tight that she saw white. She clenched her teeth in anguish, the pain blinding. Just before she thought she was going to pass out, the Heads of Houses had surrounded her. Justin and Professor Sprout held her up as the four adult wizards chanted a spell, and a cloud of purple fog erupted around them. Her leg was reattached subsequently.

“Are you alright?” Justin asked in a gentle voice, his eyebrows pinched together. He was still holding onto Susan tightly as though he was afraid to let go. Susan felt her face screw up, and she began to sob, unable to answer her friend. She felt ill. Her vision was spinning, making her think she was going to fall over.

Why had she heard that voice?  _ Why had she heard his voice? _ She looked around wildly, not seeing anything peculiar—just every face in the Hall staring at her in shock or fright. Her aunt’s face was no longer in her mind, but that realization only made Susan cry harder. She missed Amelia more than anything.

“Oh, Pomona, please take Miss Bones to Madam Pomfrey to check her over,” Professor McGonagall instructed. “Quickly, now, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, Minerva, of course,” Professor Sprout said. Justin squeezed Susan’s arm before he let their Head of House take her away.

Professor Sprout got Susan to the infirmary within a few minutes, barking at anyone who stopped to stare at the girl, who was hyperventilating at this point. She just wanted her aunt. Professor Sprout hushed her, offering sweet words of comfort, but Susan did not hear them.

All Susan could think about was Aunt Amelia, and how she had failed her. Her aunt never let her down, never, and when she needed her niece the most, Susan couldn’t return the favor. Amelia was likely already slain by the time Susan got to Leeds; the house was set ablaze before Susan could tell her father what was happening.

“I—I couldn’t save her,” Susan wailed. Professor Sprout faltered in her reassurances.

“Oh, my poor dear. Is this about your aunt?” She asked. She sat Susan down on one of the beds as Madam Pomfrey rushed over to aid the weeping girl.

Susan looked at her Professor, her tears blurring her vision. “I Apparated like she asked me to, I did, but I meant to come  _ back _ to her! To  _ save _ her! But I didn’t get to. I-I couldn’t save her—!“ Susan broke off, gasping for air. She hardly registered the cup that Madam Pomfrey held to her lips, gulping the liquid down automatically. Almost immediately she felt herself become heavy with drowsiness. But still, she continued. “I left her to die. I didn’t even tell her I loved her.”

Professor Sprout was rubbing circles into Susan’s arms as the sedative took effect. “Oh, dear, it’s alright. You’re alright. Amelia knew you loved her,” she said.

“No,” Susan argued miserably, shaking her head. It  _ wasn’t _ alright. It should have been her. _She_ should have been the one to die. She should have told Amelia she loved her before she Apparated. Susan found herself too weary, however, to tell Professor Sprout just how wrong she was.

Susan’s face was wet with her tears, her hands shaking where they rested on her lap.

The two women arranged Susan so she was lying down. Susan shook her head, trying to sit up. “I want my dad…” she slurred suddenly. It wasn’t untrue—if she couldn’t have her aunt, she wanted her dad. But the grim reality was that she had neither.  Fortunately, however, Susan was too tired to allow the thought to cause her to cry any further.

Madam Pomfrey pushed gently on Susan’s shoulders, hushing her. “I dunno where he is, though,” Susan mumbled, her eyes slipping shut. “He doesn’t live with the terrible couch anymore…”

Susan’s body went lax as she finally fell unconscious.

Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey looked between each other, sharing a pitiful look. “That family…” Pomona sighed, shaking her head dismally. “Bones, indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> As you might have noticed, I do have my own idea as to what Susan’s backstory is. I am very attached to her and to my headcanons of her, but if anyone would like me to post more about Susan, or if you have any questions, please let me know in the comments.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. ♡
> 
> ( find me on twitter at @/kidfrombrkln or on tumblr at @/gazelonger )


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